Amendment II: Wolf's Amity
by HalfCelticHalfWolf
Summary: Sequel to 'Wolf's Calling'. Division, desperation and dwindling hope. The young she-varg and her accomplices take refuge in a strange and wondrous forest, while their friends struggle in their own battles afar. With time ticking away, Faolan and her friends must act, and fast. Part 2 of 3.
1. Prologue: Vargkyn of Mordor

**A/N: **_Tada! And thus part 2 begins! Sorry for the delay. Much busy, such college, very frustrating. xD I did originally want to upload this and the first chapter together but it was taking too long so it turned out like this instead. After reading this you'll probably wonder what the hell is going on. Don't worry; tis all part of plan. Just an insight to the vargkyn's beginnings really. Thought it'd be interesting. Anyway, chapter 1 should be uploaded soon once I get the damned thing finished. Ta x_**_  
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**Vargkyn of Mordor**

_**Mordor, during the Second Age**_

Cerin took shelter from a rain shower in a tent of the military camp on the plateau of Gorgoroth, attempting to remove bits of meat from his previous meal that got stuck between his teeth with his claw-like nails. He was a vargkyn in his prime, a magnificent jewel in the crown of the Dark Lord's newest creation. A ruthless, merciless killer and loyal in the face of great peril, Cerin was the one of the most favourite and trustworthy of Sauron's servants. He was in command of his own group of vargkyn troops, of which he dominated, and led them on missions at the Dark Lord's request. Cerin's dominant personality was favourable and meant that subordinate vargkyn troops respected him, which in turn led to richer reward.

The Vargkyn of Mordor, while in the same military force, had a separate society to the Orcs. The tension between the two races was nearly always high and often led to brutal squabbles ending in serious injury or death, and so the two kept apart as much as they could. Vargkyn, having an instinctive sense of loyalty, were fiercely protective of their comrades.

Cerin was surprised to find that the Messenger, the Mannish Lieutenant, had been searching for him. As he entered the tent, Cerin bowed his head respectfully. He had only three superiors – the Witch-King of Angmar, the Mouth of Sauron, and the Lord of Mordor himself.

"Our master, Sauron the Great, wishes to speak with you immediately in person," the Lieutenant spoke in that gurgling, growling voice.

Cerin froze. This was a great honour; very few had the opportunity to meet with the Dark Lord in person. "Right away, sir," the varg complied, and hastily made his way across the ash plains to the Dark Tower.

Barad-dûr was a foreboding place and caused the vargkyn to tremble fearfully. Upon meeting his lordship, Cerin knelt and bowed his head. Though determined to not show fear in front of his master, Cerin could not help be frightened in his presence and refused to look up to see what the Dark Lord's face looked like.

The vargkyn suppressed a whimper when his master addressed him. He commended his loyal servant on his work that continued to impress him; thanks to Cerin's efforts, many of the Elendili, or the Faithful as they were also know, were hunted down and killed by Cerin's hands or paws as it were. However, four of the Seven Rings of Power that were gifted to the Dwarves were still missing and Cerin and his unit of vargkyn troops were to be the ones to retrieve them.

Intent of not disappointing his master, Cerin gathered his troops at once and left immediately on a quest to recover four of the Rings of Power gifted to the dwarves. For months they searched over and under the mountains of Middle-earth, all the possible places that dwarves would be found, but they was no trace of the Rings; only treasure hordes guarded by sleeping dragons. What was odd was that amidst the gold, silver and jewels of the dragons' hoards, none of the vargkyn could sense the presence of power. Cerin's second-in-command suggested many times that the Rings were lost forever and that they should return home, but he refused to listen. He even resorted to asking a dragon if they had seen a powerful ring lying around his gold piles, much to the dragon's distaste as the beasts are very territorial and protective of their treasure.

And so the vargkyn group went home, a sense of dread growing in Cerin's stomach. What would his master say when he returns empty handed? Cerin had never returned without what the Dark Lord asked for. The consequences were worse than Cerin could have thought; he was punished severely by his master for his failure, despite the varg telling him about the dragons' hoards. Cerin returned to his home that day sulking, sporting bruises and cuts from his punishment.

**Pronunciation**

Cerin – _seer-in _meaning 'little dark one'


	2. 1: Unpleasant Company

**Unpleasant Company**

Faolan slowly opened her eyes, waking from a restless dream. In the dream the land was shrouded in darkness as a blue-black night sky loomed overhead, the bright shining half moon the only thing shedding a little light on the hills, fields and mountains. Faolan stood on a grassy hilltop in her lustrous grey wolf form. On a plain to her right a herd of deer slept quietly. One occasionally lifted its head to listen and Faolan could see that the stags' antlers were shedding. To her left, a flock of wild sheep also rested, rams and ewes in lamb. Faolan felt hungry as she looked over the herbivores and licked her lips, deciding which animals to hunt. She had felt herself lift her forepaw and move forward before the dream faded into reality.

Lifting her head slightly to absorb her surroundings, Faolan found herself lying in her wolf form on the grass of a wide hilly landscape dotted with grey rocks. A band of orcs argued and bickered around her. At first she felt panicked, before remembering the events that had happened earlier at Amon Hen. How long ago was that? Her mind felt disorientated as she tried to piece things together. She tried to sit upright, only to fall over, cruelly reminded that her paws and jaws had been bound when the orcs captured her. Merry and Pippin were with her at the time that happened; where were they? She could smell them, but not see or hear them.

The she-wolf huffed and shook her head as her nose felt itchy. Irritatingly, she could not lift her paw far enough to scratch it. The wound she had acquired in the forest at Amon Hen had begun to heal and formed a protective scab amidst the soft silver-grey fur. She let out a quiet whine when she remembered the horrific thing she had almost done to Frodo – almost tore open his throat if it weren't for his quick reactions. Guilt had enclosed her in its dark suppressing grasp. That accursed Ring! Why did it have to affect her so much? Not that it mattered now; the Ring and its Barer were far away now. They were all far away – Legolas, Sam, Aragorn, Gimli. Except the young cousins, they were still near, somewhere. She had to find them, Faolan thought with determination, to make sure they were alright.

A large rough hand suddenly grabbed Faolan by the scruff of her neck and slung her over an orc's shoulder again. It was an uncomfortable way to travel, but at least she wasn't being forced to walk with her paws tied together. They were evidently done with their brief rest as the group pressed on to their destination, that Faolan did not know. They couldn't have been heading for Mordor, the Black Land was in the opposite direction. That is what worried the she-varg most; the unknown place they were headed, why she had not been killed yet, and what awaited them when the journey was over.

Faolan's carrier and an orc next to him began a conversation; "Why are we keeping this one alive? It's not one of them Halflings. Got a lot of meat on it."

"Ugluk seems to think it might be worth something to Saruman. But if it ain't, I'm not gonna be happy about carryin' it all this way!"

Faolan perked her ears to listen intently keeping her eyes closed pretending to fall asleep.

"What is it anyway? It ain't a warg, it's too small, and it sure ain't no ordinary wolf either."

"Ugluk thinks it's some sort of shape shifter. He said that in the woods where we slew the mighty warrior, it changed from something like a Halfling to this in seconds. I think it's a waste of time and energy!"

Faolan had heard enough. The mention of Saruman was not good news. She dreaded to think what the white wizard had in store for the two hobbits and vargkyn when they reached Isengard. If it was the One Ring he was after, then he would sorely disappointed and would more than likely kill his prisoners when he realised they were of no use to him. There was no question about it; they had to escape...somehow. It seemed quite impossible with all the orcs keeping an eye on them, but Faolan was determined to think of a plan. She had to. She'd rather take her chances with the orcs than submit to Saruman. The first step was to find her friends.

The uncomfortable journey lasted up to three days, and Faolan was growing hungry, impatient and agitated. There was no energy left stored in her glass beads and her body began to draw energy from fat. This combined with the fact that she could not move on her own and hadn't been able to contact Merry or Pippin left her extremely irritable, like a caged animal. In effect, she was a caged animal, moments away from being overcome by rage. Whenever she was put down for a while, she'd desperately try to break free from her restraints when no one was looking; she had had enough of not being able to walk or part her jaws for a simple yawn. Unfortunately the bonds were very well done and remained secure. If only she wasn't muzzled, then she could have chewed through them with the scissor-like teeth at the back of her mouth. Alas, she was stuck in this humiliating position until someone, friend or foe, released her.

However, there was a small glimmer of hope; sometimes Faolan would catch a glimpse or scent of horses in the distance, or hear the faint thundering of hooves. The people riding these horses appeared quite tall and fair-haired. Faolan deduced that they were likely a friendly folk, given that very few servants of the Enemy elect to use horses as mounts.

One evening, the riders came up behind the orcs over the hills, firing arrows and picking off individuals at the back of the group. The shrieks roused Faolan from her sleep and she lifted her head and perked her ears tentatively, watching the horsemen gallop by and enclose in on the orcs, pushing them along the line of a river which Faolan did not know the name of. The sudden buzz of activity left the she-varg feeling a little dazed and confused, unsure whether to hide or make herself noticed. A released arrow squarely planted itself in the back of her carrier's head. As he felt, Faolan was flung from his shoulder onto the ground, landing painfully on her right flank. No one appeared to have noticed and continued to flee the attack. The she-varg flattened herself on the ground as the horsemen followed, hoping that none of the horses would trample her. As the thundering sound grew quieter again, Faolan cautiously lifted her head to watch. The company had run off without her and she was free. Well, almost free; her bonds will still completely intact. Now, she took the opportunity to wriggle out the bonds, for she would only be able to chase after the orcs if she could run properly. They had to come undone eventually, they just _had_ to.

Faolan spent a good while lying in that same spot struggling to get free. Eventually, she managed to free her hind paws with constant kicking and twisting and occasional pushing with her muzzle. Once they were free, the-wolf had a good scratch at all the itchy places that had been bothering her over previous days then proceeding in removing the restraints around her jaws. She rolled on her back and used her hind paws to push them off over her nose. It was a very drawn-out, tiring and slightly painful process, but soon Faolan eased off the bonds and regained the ability to open her mouth again. Finally, she hastily began chewing at the ties around her forepaws, the scissor-like teeth slowly but surely slicing through the strong material.

Freedom at last! Faolan bounced around joyfully, able to run and jump around with ease. By this time, night had fallen and the she-varg noticed that the horsemen had completely encircled the company of orcs who had gathered on a little hillock. Small fires lit up as the men waited patiently and silently for dawn, much to the orcs' annoyance. She could faintly hear Ugluk yelling at his kinsmen for 'loosing the wolf'. Faolan stealthy stalked closer the horsemen but kept a respectable distance as she thought they would not welcome her presence.

In the darkness, the vargkyn fancied she saw two small silhouettes huddled closely, accompanied by the larger, bulkier form of an orc. He then grasped her comrades under each arm and sneakily headed for a gap in the horsemen's defence. Faolan struggled to resist the urge to spring from the shadows to her friends' aid; revealing herself would cause all sorts of trouble in this situation. She would wait and see how things develop. The men appeared not to notice the orc passing by silently in the darkness, until he stood up straight only to come face to face with a rider. The horse reared and snorted, kicking with its hooves. Faolan watched intently as the orc threw himself to the ground and drew his sword. It was this act that alerted the men of his presence and an arrow skilfully flew from the darkness and pierced the orc's hand. He let out a shriek and dropping the sword made for an escape, only to be brought down with a spear through his back.

The horsemen sprang into action, and Faolan trotted to and fro at the edge of the hillock searching for her friends but saw no sign of them. It was possible they were hiding in order to avoid being trampled on or skewered. The she-varg crept a little closer to the fray, near the spot where the orc had left the hobbits, with her nose to the ground scanning for their scent. The scent was strong, although she could not see them in the long grass. She circled around a little while before remembering the elven cloaks from Lothórien used to hide themselves from their enemies. Faolan leapt to where the hobbits' scent was strongest, touched what felt like a cloak with her nose and lifted them off, revealing a couple of startled hobbits underneath. Realising it was Faolan, the hobbits sprang up from their hiding place, very pleased to see her. As much as the she-varg was happy to find them alive, the time for hugs had to wait; she inspected them closely for any injuries and untied their bonds with her teeth. She was surprised to find that Pippin's had somehow already been undone. Faolan gave a light bark and hastily shepherded them along away from the battle to somewhere much safer where they would be allowed to discuss things peacefully.


End file.
